Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Anticlimactic
I am desperately trying to get the writing bug. I am not catching it. Therefore, I sit and whine and mope about not writing and then when I go to write, I can't access it. I have very little to report. I could tell you about my job, but that's gotten me fired before. I could make up stories about vacations and fabulous relaxing retreats in Europe, but none of that will ever happen to a girl like me. I could describe my garden in detail, but I think it's wilting a little bit. I could chat about me me me, but really, that's very ego-centric.

Everything that gets me upset gets everyone else upset, too, and half the time, lots of other people have written about being upset in the same way I would describe my upsetness, so that's out. Yes, Bush is bad. Yes, I am voting for Obama. Yes, I am disturbed how racist many voters are. Yes, teenage vampire whores are causing our children to suffer from ADD and PTSD and OCD and Asperger's. Meh. Whatever.

Here's the raw deal, I think. I've lost all my creativity to humdrum living. It's no one's fault but my own. I work myself into exhaustion, save just enough energy to knit, and the rest of my waking hours are spent wishing for the weekend to come and get me the hell up out of this rut. I need a break, man. Or a great big fat doobie.

Also, this article depresses me, despite my 9 pound weight loss. I think I'm just going to be fat forever, dammit.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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